


Towards a Wall

by missred



Series: Saturday [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: College AU, Exhaustion, Fever, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, technically in line with early days stuff pre-tttyg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: Pete makes it through graduation, and Andy deals with the fallout.





	Towards a Wall

Pete didn’t really want to sleep with everyone over.  He dozed on the couch for maybe an hour or two before forcing himself to sit up and pay attention to Andy, Patrick, and Joe.  It was a quarter past eleven, which was usually prime time for Pete, but he still felt wiped. Andy had cleared all the takeout while he’d been asleep, and he noticed his apartment looked at least 50% more clean than it had before. The dirty clothes he’d been shucking off and leaving all over the floor were gone, the days old coffee pot had been scrubbed and put away, and his trash can was actually closed instead of overflowing with styrofoam containers. God, he loved Andy. He also felt like kind of an asshole. Andy had just graduated last week, and here he was playing cleaning crew after Pete’s mess of a life. So he repressed a yawn and grabbed a controller, proceeding to kick ass, or at least not come last, in Mario Kart. He felt Andy’s eyes on him a few times, but he ignored it, forcing a smile and waiting until after 1 a.m. to start kicking everybody out. He needed to be okay, and he almost never wanted anyone to leave before sunrise. It was nice, when they guys could come over. Joe and Patrick usually ended up flopped on top of eachother on the couch, and Andy pulled the futon from under Pete’s bed if he didn’t feel like driving back to Milwaukee at 4 a.m. 

But now Pete felt tired like an ache in his bones, and he just wanted to feel shitty in peace. He figured he would sleep for the next 20 hours or so and wake up feeling semi-human again. Andy staunchly quashed the boy’s idea of taking the metra home, ordering them to pile back into his car instead.  As Pete waved goodbye to everyone, Andy gave him another long look and said “Take care of yourself okay? I’m going to crash at my aunt’s house for a few days and so I can play a show this weekend. Call me if you need something.” 

Pete smiled and shrugged, uncomfortable with the serious look in Andy’s eyes. “Sure, man. I’m good though. I’ll be fine.”

He really wanted to sleep as soon as they were gone but Andy was right, he stank. His skin felt grimy and gross in a way he couldn’t ignore anymore so he hopped in the shower and tried not to fall asleep under the hot water. Pete felt a thousand times better as he rummaged through his drawer from some clean underwear and a t-shirt. He was running low-- he should do laundry tomorrow--and thought maybe he just felt gross because he had  _ been _ gross. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that Andy had changed his sheets while he’d been conked out on the couch, and yeah this was way beyond friend requirements but seriously Andy was a  _ saint _ . Pete was trying to think of something nice to do for Andy next time he saw him and then he wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

\--

Pete woke up to the sun setting slowly behind the blinds. He immediately wished he could go back to sleep. His head hurt so badly it felt like his eyeballs were throbbing. He swallowed hard against the nasty taste in his mouth and pulled himself out of bed, not bothering to get a cup before gulping water from the kitchen sink. His ears rang as he wiped his mouth, but the water didn’t help his head. His throat, which he hadn’t noticed before, felt raw and painful. This sucked. He’d slept plenty, he was ready to be done feeling shitty. He knew there was probably leftover takeout in the fridge, but he wasn’t really hungry. Pete plopped onto the couch and checked his messages--mostly congratulatory texts from distant relatives. That was nice of them. Patrick asked if Pete would buy him a case of beer this weekend. 

_ No!!! I'm not corrupting u and ur angelic pipes  _

Pete typed out quickly. He didn’t mind if Patrick drank when he was around to supervise, but he didn’t trust anything that happened at a highschool party. He’d been to too many of them. He kind of felt hungover now, if he was being honest. More sleep would fix it. That worked with hangovers and this was just like...a work hangover. Or something. He turned on the tv and set the volume low so he could could hear  _ How It’s Made _ hum along in the background. He was tired and he could feel it, but sleep didn’t come so easily this time. He tossed and turned, spending most of the night fitfully dreaming about taking a test and failing no matter what answers he chose. He lost track of time. It was light when he stumbled into the bathroom to pee, disoriented and dizzy. He crawled back into bed and hovered in an uncomfortable haze between sleeping and waking, knowing he should get up but unable to shake off sleep long enough to actually do it. His phone had been under his pillow, but he lost it at some point in the night. His throat hurt more than before, but he barely had the wherewithal to reach over to his nightstand for the an empty water bottle. He gave up, rolled over, and slept.

\--

Pete woke up with his heart racing. Someone was pounding on the door. 

“Pete, for fuck’s sake, let me in!”

Andy? Pete thought blurrily mumbling, “Coming.” He saw spots as he got ran for the door, half-concerned Andy would knock it down if he wasn’t fast enough.

The door swung open and Andy stood there for a minute, fist raised, looking worried and frantic. 

“Where have you been?!”

“Here.” Pete gestured, confusedly. He really wanted to go back to bed and his ears were ringing again. 

You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls.”

“Oh.” Pete rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “My phone fell behind my bed, I think.” He backed away from the door and collapsed on the couch. 

“Pete, it’s been four days. What’s going on?” Andy stepped inside and sat down carefully next to him.

“ _ Nothing _ ,” Pete muttered emphatically. “I was just tired. I’m fine now.”

Andy gave him a once over and apparently wasn’t satisfied with what he saw.

“Did you take something? I don’t care, Pete I just need to know if--”

“No!” Pete scrubbed his hands over his face and tried not to sway. The room was moving just enough to make looking Andy in the eye difficult. 

“I didn’t. I would’ve told you if--if there was a problem. But there’s not, I’m good, I was just--”

“Tired.” Andy finished, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He lays a hand on Pete’s forehead and shakes his head. “Pete, you’re sick.”

Pete shook his head. “No, I’m not. I can’t be I didn’t even sneeze once, I’m--” He huffed, “--dizzy.”

“Come on.” Andy pulled Pete up and instinctively held him through the wave of dizziness. “We’re going to Illinois Masonic.”

“Andy, it’s not that bad, it’s probably a cold. I’ll go to a medi-help or something.” Pete wasn’t a fan of hospitals, and he knew his mom would never let him live alone again if he went to the hospital over something like this.

“Nothing else is open this late, you have a fever, and you were out of it enough that you didn’t hear me knocking for like a solid two minutes. We’re going.” Andy said with finality. 

The longer he was up, the worse Pete felt, and he swallowed bile as he got into Andy’s car. He leaned his head against the cool window and hated himself for letting it get this bad. 

\--

The ER was mostly empty. Andy grabbed his insurance card and steered Pete to a chair. The triage nurse took his vitals and he tried not to squirm away. The air was cold and artificial-smelling, and he really, really, didn’t want to be here. She made a few notes on a chart and said something to the nurse at the desk and ten minutes later he was being admitted. They brought a wheelchair out, which felt excessive, until Pete stood up and black dots swam in from of his eyes. He felt lightheaded and shaky, and made nothing but a token protest to the nurse, who rightfully ignored him. Andy said something quietly to the nurse and she asked Pete about privacy and medical disclosures, but he nodded his head as much as he could. 

“He can come.” Pete mumbled, “I don’t mind.” 

He was glad actually. Underneath the heavy ache of his muscles and the pounding in his head, a tidal wave of anxiety was building as he realized they weren’t just going to prescribe him an antibiotic and send him home. Andy kept stride with him until they reached a patient room, and the nurse told him kindly that a doctor would be in to see him shortly. Pete closed his eyes and focused on the sound of Andy’s calm, deep breaths. A minute later, his hand was clasped in Andy’s warm palm.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He said softly.”

“Always am.” Pete returned. He didn’t have the energy to smile but he felt better. Andy was there, so it would probably all work out okay. That was the part he didn’t say. Everything turned out alright when Andy was around. Pete shivered and wondered if he was allowed to get under the crisp blankets but he didn’t have time try it before he was pulled back to sleep. One hand hung over the side of bed clutching Andy’s as he gave in to the overwhelming weight of his eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the part two to a series that literally nobody asked for.


End file.
